


Commander of the Vanguard

by Mithrigil



Category: Sengoku Basara
Genre: Gen, Good Job Mitsunari, Service, Unresolved Sexual Tension, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 04:25:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/605798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithrigil/pseuds/Mithrigil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mitsunari is more valuable to the Toyotomi army than he knows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Commander of the Vanguard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [puella_nerdii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/puella_nerdii/gifts).



Mitsunari does not question the decisions of his betters, Lord Hideyoshi and Lord Hanbei especially. Mitsunari is a model officer. Mitsunari knows that every choice Lord Hideyoshi makes (or that Lord Hanbei makes for him) is grounded in sense and reason and all they say should be as law, and it is left to Mitsunari to be the agent of their will and do as they say.

Which is why Mitsunari has put up with sharing quarters with Tokugawa Ieyasu for four years.

“Forgive me,” Ieyasu says--he never asks to be forgiven for any of the things he actually does wrong, and here he is, asking to be forgiven for something so innocuous as opening the shoji to let some cool air in. “Were you asleep, Mitsunari?”

“I’ve been awake since you started tossing and turning.”

Ieyasu laughs, the way he does at damn near everything. “Then I apologize!” If he’s truly sorry, he shouldn’t be cheerful, he should be contrite. Mitsunari has never seen Ieyasu properly contrite. “I must admit, I’m nervous about the campaign.”

As long as Ieyasu insists on talking, Mitsunari might as well get up so they can help each other into their armor. (Not that Ieyasu wears enough. Then again, if he gets killed by an arrow to the gut, it’s his own fault for exposing it.) “That’s ridiculous. If you believe in your strength and the might of the Toyotomi, there’s nothing to fear.”

“Truly,” Ieyasu says, still laughing. “You aren’t afraid, Mitsunari?”

Ieyasu is sitting against the open shoji, feet dangling down to the grass. There’s something insufferable about it. He should save this kind of reverent silence for Lord Hideyoshi, since he can’t be bothered to be that way all the time.

“Never,” Mitsunari says. “I serve the Toyotomi.”

“Your death might not serve them.”

“You dare imply that I won’t make sure it does!”

“No.” Ieyasu looks back out into the sun. “Only that you’ll be missed.”

This is ridiculous. Mitsunari can’t hope that Ieyasu hears how preposterous it sounds because he’s never understood it before and he’s too wrapped up in his fancies to understand it now. “If I must die,” Mitsunari says, rolling up the futons -- Ieyasu’s too, since he hasn’t bothered -- “I will take so many of them with me that Lord Hideyoshi will want for nothing. Do not doubt my strength just because you doubt yours!”

“I don’t doubt my strength,” Ieyasu says.

“Then it must be your loyalty at fault.” For as long as Mitsunari has known him, Ieyasu has insisted that he is still the Lord of Mikawa, even though he serves the Toyotomi. It’s unseemly, and arrogant, and how Lord Hideyoshi and Lord Hanbei continue to tolerate that presumption is beyond Mitsunari. He should be loyal and thankful with his whole heart. Instead, Ieyasu is preoccupied with laughter, and with people who aren’t Lord Hideyoshi. “You only cling to life because you haven’t accepted that your life belongs to Lord Hideyoshi.”

“I have other bonds, Mitsunari.”

Mitsunari hates the way that Ieyasu says his name. “You shouldn’t.”

“Why shouldn’t I? Even Lord Hideyoshi has bonds he cherishes.”

“How dare you! Lord Hideyoshi thinks only of strength!”

“He would miss Lord Hanbei if he were gone. You too, I think.”

“Stop putting your words in Lord Hideyoshi’s mouth! How dare you speak for him! And how dare you undermine his strength!”

“All right, all right,” Ieyasu says, and puts up his hands. “Look. It’s morning. Let’s get dressed for mess, Mitsunari.”

Ieyasu never asks to be forgiven for any of the things he actually does wrong.

*

The battle is glorious for the Toyotomi. Less so for the Anegakoji. Mitsunari, in the vanguard, cuts them down like blades of grass. It is how things should be.

The slaughter hasn’t stopped since Mitsunari broke past the first gate. The vanguard has taken four camps already, and Mitsunari himself isn’t counting how many soldiers he’s downed. It doesn’t matter: all he does is in Lord Hideyoshi’s name, not his own, and the blood on his sword is in Lord Hideyoshi’s honor. Leave it to the rear guard and Ieyasu’s contingent to hold the camps once they’re taken, Mitsunari will plow ahead and bring the Toyotomi victory. Those are his orders, direct from Lord Hanbei. When Mitsunari breathes, he can still feel Lord Hanbei’s hand on his shoulder, blessing him, speeding him along.

“Lieutenant Mitsunari!”

Mitsunari cuts down one more ring of Anegakoji, then slams his sword into its sheath, blood and all. The message-runner is out of breath. Mitsunari isn’t. “What is it now?”

“Orders from Lord Hanbei, sir! We’re to ignore the remaining traps and camps and break for Anegakoji’s headquarters.”

“Have we found them?”

“Yes! Ieyasu’s rearguard found a shortcut two camps back.”

Good, he’s making himself useful at last. “Understood,” he says, and gives the soldiers in his party one rallying wave before he charges through the knot of Anegakoji behind him, not bothering to check if anyone is fast enough to follow.

It doesn’t matter if no one is: Mitsunari can, will, take everyone on in Lord Hideyoshi’s name. He mows down Anegakoji by the dozen, leaves them fallen for whoever keeps up. His sword sings, cuts shadow into every body in his path. The central fortress is in sight, a mere pile of logs compared to the glory of Odawara, and Mitsunari breaks for it, pausing only to slaughter anything that dares get in his way--

“Mitsunari, watch out!”

He hates the way Ieyasu says his name. And how dare he call it in the middle of battle! But it’s only that sound that stops Mitsunari from running into a lethal swathe of churning logs, spiked and grinding like teeth.

It’s hard to tell whether he leaps to the side, or Ieyasu pulls him. They happen at about the same time. Mitsunari doesn’t let go of his sword, but can’t keep his feet, and falls on top of Ieyasu, who isn’t standing either. The wooden teeth chew the unfortunate soldiers that were following Mitsunari, crunch them like so many chunks of meat. Mitsunari could have jumped it. The fortress is still in sight.

Ieyasu is still holding him. _How dare he._

“Let go!” Mitsunari shoves him off and gets to his feet and doesn’t give a damn where he lands. He almost crashes into Tadakatsu’s leg. “Why did you stop me? Don’t you think I can take care of myself?”

“Mitsunari--”

“Look to your own orders! Don’t prevent me from following mine!”

“My orders are to protect you, Mitsunari!”

There’s no time to argue, there’s no point in arguing. All Mitsunari knows is that those are _orders_ , if Ieyasu is not lying, and if they are orders they are the word of Lord Hideyoshi himself.

“Fine,” he says, “then do it,” and charges into the fray again, leaving Ieyasu and his task behind.

*

“Enter,” Lord Hanbei says, and Mitsunari obeys. He opens the door and immediately kneels, brow to the floor. Now that the Anegakoji fortress is theirs, and Azure Castle, Lord Hideyoshi and Lord Hanbei have taken the main house as their temporary headquarters. When Lord Hanbei says, “It’s all right, Mitsunari, you may look up,” Mitsunari sees that the surroundings are not nearly majestic enough, nor is the room quite large enough, for Lord Hideyoshi’s magnificence. Lord Hideyoshi sits on a small dais, a converted command platform, and Lord Hanbei stands beside it. Lord Hanbei looks as though the battle hasn’t touched him at all, cape and hair immaculate: Lord Hideyoshi’s knuckles are black with earth and blood. Mitsunari knows this meeting for the honor it is.

“We sit here now because of your loyalty,” Lord Hideyoshi says.

Mitsunari’s heart nearly breaks. He bows again, fights to keep his fists uncurled and his palms to the floor because Lord Hideyoshi deserves his respect and his reverence, not shameful things like pride or happiness. “It is yours, with my life,” he says, and can’t keep his breath steady, or even in his chest at all. “Lord Hideyoshi, please, allow me the honor of continuing to serve you like this!”

Hanbei laughs. Mitsunari has never heard a sound more beautiful than that. “Why, Mitsunari, did you think we would dismiss you? You serve so perfectly, so honestly. We’d be foolish to throw that away.”

“You could never be foolish, Lord Hanbei!”

“You see?” Hanbei is still laughing, and says this as much to Hideyoshi as to Mitsunari. “You’d think his heart only beats when yours does.”

“It does,” Mitsunari says, in complete seriousness.

“Then I’m so glad you’ve taken care to keep it beating,” Hanbei says, turns back to him and smiles as bright as a star. “You’re so perfectly true, Mitsunari. It would be a shame to lose you to something so insignificant as a trap.”

“I am merely a Toyotomi soldier.”

“You’re not merely anything,” Hanbei says.

“You are too strong to waste,” Lord Hideyoshi says, and his word is as law.

He thought his heart was already broken with happiness. It might have just stopped again.

“We value you, Mitsunari.” Hanbei does the most unthinkable, wonderful thing that Mitsunari dares to imagine: he reaches down to where Mitsunari is kneeling, and puts his hand on Mitsunari’s hair, gives it a gentle, impossibly tender stroke. “We value your service. You can’t serve Lord Hideyoshi nearly as well if you’re injured or dead, can you?”

“No,” Mitsunari agrees, because everything Lord Hanbei and Lord Hideyoshi says must be true. He has not yet earned his death. He must make sure to earn it, when it comes, and to follow their orders to the letter so he can keep serving them as well as they say, and even better with each mission, each day, each breath.

“Is there anything you would like to ask us, Mitsunari?” Hanbei’s hand is still in Mitsunari’s hair. Mitsunari wants this to be the last thing he feels. If it weren’t for this order he would die, now, just to preserve this honor he’s been given.

“Lord Hanbei,” he asks, “is that why you ordered Ieyasu to protect me?”

“Of course,” Lord Hanbei says. “Dear Ieyasu has always been so concerned for you.”

“Isn’t that mercy?”

“His, or mine? His, perhaps. But my order to protect you is for the good of the Toyotomi, whatever else it is. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Lord Hanbei. Thank you.”

Hanbei favors him with one more brilliant smile, and then glances at Lord Hideyoshi to confirm, “You’re dismissed.”

*

Ieyasu is already resting when Mitsunari finally finds their quarters -- temporary, but still shared, for one reason or another. Mitsunari finds him half-asleep with his futon laid out on its usual side, closer to the shoji. He’s gotten out of his armor on his own, or had someone help him out of it, and he’s been to the baths. But it’s not the same cleanliness as Lord Hanbei, and after such beautiful praise from Hanbei it’s even more hateful to look on Ieyasu and his posturing, his presumption.

But Ieyasu was only doing what he was told. He acted beholden to the Toyotomi, for once. And that deserves respect.

“Mitsunari.”

“Ieyasu.” Mitsunari shuts the shoji and comes into the room, sets his sword down and starts undoing his armor.

Oddly enough, Ieyasu gets up from his futon to help. But it’s not that strange, considering they’ve helped each other into armor before, just not out of it, and not after a battle like that. Ieyasu moves too slowly. Mitsunari nearly tells him so.

But Ieyasu speaks first, even if his hands linger. “I apologize for today.”

“There’s no need,” Mitsunari says.

He unsnaps one of Mitsunari’s gauntlets. His hand lingers on Mitsunari’s wrist, strangely warm through his shirt. “I mean for confusing you.”

So sometimes he does apologize for the right things.

It deserves respect, and thanks, so Mitsunari gives them. “Thank you. I apologize for questioning the origin of your orders.”

“All right,” Ieyasu says, with a smile that seems different, freer than his others, and starts on Mitsunari’s other gauntlet.

Something has changed in the air. It might be thinner, or warmer. An insidious tautness spreads under Mitsunari’s skin, not only where Ieyasu is touching him, more like a strain than a wound up and down Mitsunari’s entire arm. He curls his fist, and without the gauntlet there ends up curling it too tight.

And then Ieyasu looks up at him, and his smile is back to the proud and hateful and confusing shape it’s always in. If only Ieyasu would listen, stop putting on airs and start putting the mission of the Toyotomi before his pride and _bow his damned head_ , he could be a true ally, a stronger soldier, and a better man.

He could even be worthy of Lord Hideyoshi’s praise.

“Mitsunari?”

Mitsunari withdraws his arm, even if that gauntlet is only half undone. “I’ll do the rest.”

“All right,” Ieyasu says, and backs off, but does not turn away.

He’s quiet the entire time that it takes Mitsunari to undress and roll out his futon. The room is strange, and the shoji faces the wrong way, toward sunset instead of sunrise. Mitsunari lays down, and curls up, and Ieyasu’s presence at his back seems closer than usual, more insistent, like thunder after the lighting has already struck. Like unseemly pride. He won’t let it go to his head like Ieyasu. He serves the Toyotomi with everything he has, with everything he is.

But Mitsunari takes comfort in Lord Hanbei’s praise, and Lord Hideyoshi’s few precious words, and sleeps as contentedly as he’s ever slept.


End file.
